


Anniversary on 120

by big_slug



Series: Montauk: Beyond Hawkins [7]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Future Fic, Gen, Good Sibling Jonathan Byers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Photography, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding, anniversary effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_slug/pseuds/big_slug
Summary: Perhaps getting through that time of year is always going to be tough on the Byers family.This can probably be read independently from the rest of the series. Having at least a vague idea of the setting would make it better, though.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers & Will Byers
Series: Montauk: Beyond Hawkins [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464226
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Anniversary on 120

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Junigatsu84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junigatsu84/gifts).



> I've had this on my hard drive for so many months, unfinished. But a recent post by Junigatsu84 finally gave me the kick in the butt I needed to finish it. So... please take it as a sort of Thank-You gift. Jonathan and Will can just be so precious together.

**November 1987**

Everyone has their own way of coping. Mom tells him this. Nancy tells him this. They talk to him as though he doesn‘t understand during these few minutes between knocking on Will‘s door and backing out of the driveway again. Jonathan just feels he has to atone for not being here that time last year, especially since he knows too well how bad this can get. So he does what he thinks is right. He wanted to head out today anyways, wanted to defeat the dreary first week of November before it could get a real grip on his soul again, rendering him a useless, mindless body for the first half of the month. „I‘m not telling you not to talk to Will.“ mom says with his camera bag hanging from her outstretched hand. Jonathan takes it. „Just... if he needs alone time, don‘t take offense.“

„Oh come on, you know me better.“ he defends.

She sighs. „You‘re right. And you think you know where to find him?“

Jonathan is chewing on the inside of his cheek. Looking out the window right into the saturated glow of a low hanging November sun, he says „If I don‘t, I‘ll still end up with some pretty good shots.“

„You got yourself a new camera?“ No doubt, mom has felt the weight of the monstrosity tucked away in the padded bag.

Jonathan tugs the loop around his shoulder where it sure feels more substantial than his Pentax. „No, no. I‘m thinking about getting myself something similar, but I wanted to try it out first. It‘s borrowed. I just figured it gets me out of my comfort zone, just because, y‘know...“ She doesn‘t know. But she looks curious, prompting Jonathan to quickly search for the right words. „I don‘t want to stagnate in what I‘m doing, especially not now. Like... it‘s that time of year, I guess. Alright, I‘m off. Promise we‘ll both be here for dinner.“

„Jonathan.“ mom calls after him at the door. „If you don‘t find him, don‘t worry too much. He‘s just feeling it more than any of us.“

„Of course he is.“ Jonathan says over his shoulder. He doesn‘t want her to see that he‘s smiling; smiling because she does not appear to be worried. Will has been gone for a good four hours, apparently, and their mom has yet to make a fuzz about it. Two years, and this place is treating her as well as ever. He waves her goodbye once the engine has stopped sputtering and coughing like an old man on his deathbed - not far from what this machine is. Anyone else would have probably gotten a new car by now, but Jonathan likes to think that, as long as it goes forwards, it‘s good enough.

One more glance at the house tells him that El has her curtains closed against the sunlight. Sometimes you just need rain. You need the harsh light of an ugly overcast day to press down on you, and when that‘s the case, it just sucks if the sun comes up to grin bright orange and make fun of you. Nancy has barricaded herself in there with Jonathan‘s adopted sister now, and whatever they‘re talking about or not talking about, it helps them. Jonathan would be a third wheel up in that room, and he knows it. So he gently, without any rush, tiptoes the gas pedal. No use going forty when his thoughts are moving at ten miles per hour at best.

This place has done more than treat his family well, Jonathan thinks. It‘s been kind to Jonathan too. For the brief time, the one year he spent in this town, he was at peace with himself more than he could have ever wished for in Hawkins. And Will... their move has brought out the best in him. He is growing into the type of person parents would want their kids to look up to. The type of person Jonathan wants to be, which is an odd thought.

Across a few small bridges, through patches of autumn-golden forests that give off an eerie feeling reminiscent of Indiana, Jonathan periodically tries to hum along to the radio, only to find that he‘s not in the mood. Not by a long stretch, so he ends up switching it off. His shutter finger is itching him despite everything and the light is perfect, but Will comes first. The Civic, not quite as old as Jonathan‘s car, and not half as shabby, is parked there by the lighthouse in the parking lot reserved for tourists during the summer. Now it is empty - the same as the town when the season is over and everyone breathes in the peace that spreads.

Jonathan spies into the car to find it positively littered with disposable coffee cups. Will‘s precious elixir of life. It serves him as a sleep surrogate during the weeks around Halloween. He could easily bike to school as long as the weather permits, but Jonathan knows that he takes the car so he can get coffee and a little alone time in the morning. If their mom knew about the extent of his caffeine intake, she‘d try to put an end to it, so he usually doesn‘t brew it himself. The behemoth of a camera lies heavy in Jonathan‘s hand as he snaps the first photo of the day. A narrow shot of a steering wheel and a gear lever in front of a footwell full of paper cups.

Once that is done - hell, he hopes he‘s got the exposure right without a light meter on hand - he clambers up the hill to the lighthouse. The wet grass has him slipping from time to time, which elicits low curses from him. Will has obviously noticed that, sitting there a few feet away from the edge of the cliff overlooking the deep blue sea. „Don‘t...“ Jonathan says lowly. „Don‘t move an inch. This is perfect.“

„Whatever.“ Will grumbles. Letting his pencil stutter across the paper of his notebook, he pays little mind to what Jonathan is doing - that is setting up a perfect shot. The light, the scene, the shadows, it all seems to fit so fell. Will doesn‘t wear color during this time of year; he‘s whipped out the black jeans, the dark-green parka, and he has his hair combed back so the wind doesn‘t blow it around his eyes when he‘s drawing. It all makes for such an iconic photo - on 120 medium format, and with a large enough print, you‘ll even be able to see the dark stubble on his chin.

The camera clicks a few times as Jonathan tries out different shutter speeds. At least one good image _needs_ to come of this. „New camera?“

„Sort of.“ Jonathan says. „It‘s not mine. Borrowed it from Carl Fisher. Remember, my boss at the photo lab before I went to college? I‘m trying to do something different here.“

„Yeah, me too.“ Will sighs. He shuts his notebook, obviously frustrated out of his mind. „How is it working out for you?“

Jonathan chuckles a bit and puts the lens cap back on the camera. „I‘ll know once I have these developed. Carl is gonna let me use his darkroom. Want to drop by there later?“ He waits for a few seconds, but upon receiving no answer sits down on the blanket Will has brought. „And what are you up to?“

„Nothing, I guess. I mean... Ever seen a painting by Ivan Aivazovsky?“

„No... how did you even learn to pronounce that?“

Will makes a hollow snorting sound. „I‘m trying to get the waves right. Not necessarily the color like he did, just the shape. Because that‘s the first step, right? I just can‘t get it to work. How do you draw something that won‘t hold still?“ Will‘s knuckles have turned white around his pencil. His hand is trembling. A quick look at the trashcan by the lighthouse gives him away; Where tourists would dispose of popsicle wrappers in the summer, he can see another paper cup, a huge one.

„Hey!“ Will protests, but doesn‘t fight when Jonathan takes his wrist.

„Have you even checked your pulse? No wonder you can‘t draw in this condition. Did you sleep at all last night?“ No answer. „The night before? Christ, how much coffee did you have today?“

„I‘m fine, _mom_.“ Will snaps at him. „I‘ll be fine.“

„I know you will. Same as last year. I‘ll be too. Is there anything you want to talk about? I thought Adrian would be here.“

Will slowly runs a palm down his face, and keeps his eyes closed in a way that makes Jonathan think he has actually fallen asleep for a second. „He gets it. Needs alone time too, sometimes. He‘s got his own... anniversary, y‘know. Is mom freaking out already?“

„You‘d think that, but she‘s okay. Nancy is there if she needs anything.“ Jonathan snaps a quick photo of the ocean below them. He has seen worse days, but the waves are high today, and the wind carries the scent of brine far inland. He enjoys it. He gets why Will likes to come up here. „See, this is how you create an image of something that won‘t hold still. Hey, ever thought that maybe we should celebrate?“

„What‘s there to celebrate this week?“

„Our strength.“ Jonathan says flatly, but with a tightening throat. „We‘re alive. We survived and we‘re still here. Those monsters can suck on that. Because I haven‘t seen any of them around lately.“

Will looks at him, incredibly tired and worn-out, and older than his sixteen years. „Even if I wanted to, I couldn‘t. It‘s... maybe it‘s still too close. Maybe it‘ll always be. It‘s like I can still feel him sometimes. Somewhere in here.“ Will points at his chest. „Like something that doesn‘t belong there.“

„The Mind Flayer?“

Will nods. On top of everything else, his eyes are also swimming wet now. „Or maybe, I guess it could just be that I‘m feeling his absence? If that makes sense? Like when you pull a splinter from under your skin and you feel that relief for a few seconds before everything goes back to normal. But when the relief lasts too long it just feels like something used to be there, and it becomes a reminder of what happened. Then you just want it gone.“

„I had no idea.“

„That‘s okay. It‘s not always there, it‘s just this shitty week. Makes me think that maybe things should have played out differently. Maybe it was a fight I was supposed to lose.“

„No.“ Jonathan interrupts him. „No. I don‘t want to hear you say that ever again! I-“ There are many things he wants to say right now. If he only could. He‘d tell Will about the funeral home. About how it was him who picked a coffin, while their mom was still out looking for Will. Jonathan‘s nightmare always takes him back to that argument he had with her. She believes him, and then she gives up.

„You‘re hurting me.“ Will complains.

Jonathan blinks. He releases his violent grip on Will‘s arm. „Sorry. I-“ He gives Will a rough, one-armed hug. „It‘s okay. You‘re gonna be okay.“

„Right now I think I‘m just gonna be sick.“ Will‘s skin has taken on a pale, almost green-ish shade. He looks like he could throw up any minute now.

„Yeah. Sleep deprivation and caffeine. What a combo.“ Jonathan lets himself fall back into the grass. He raises the heavy camera in front of his eyes and snaps a photo straight up, with the lighthouse towering over him. „You think you have to puke?“ When Will shakes his head, Jonathan continues „Good. Then I guess I‘m gonna finish this film and then we can go develop it. Ever tried climbing down there?“

„To the beach?“ Will asks.

„Yeah.“ Jonathan inches closer to the edge of the cliff - which really isn‘t a cliff as much as it is a sandy slope.

„You can slide down just fine if you don‘t mind the sand in your shoes, but getting back up is a different story. You‘d have to walk about a half mile down that way.“ Will points down the beach, where in the distance the land becomes flat enough for someone to climb back up.

„Okay, I‘m not really in the mood for that.“

Will chuckles wearily. „I figured. Ugh, stop it already!“

But Jonathan is quick, snapping another photo of him. „You don‘t get as many frames per roll with medium format. I‘m already almost full.“ Jonathan isn‘t feeling all that inspired, though, and when he has actually finished the roll a little while later he just hopes that at least one good photo is on there.

* * *

„Ready to do some magic?“

Will shrugs. „You‘re the magician. But alright, I‘m curious.“ It might be just a tad bit early, but he has nodded off a few times already, so Jonathan guesses they can at least get back inside and take a look, because Will is going to pass out at some point.

Jonathan has found himself missing the work of developing film by himself. He can look back fondly on hours upon hours in the darkroom, moving with a sort of confidence he really only could come up with in the dim red light. Hence the nostalgia he is still feeling for his teenage years is largely based on a place like this. Because in the darkroom, even if there had been anyone who wanted to make fun of him for his stiff walk, his greasy hair, his second-hand clothes, they wouldn‘t have been able to see him.

As a student he rarely has the time to do this himself. He usually just pays to have his film developed, like everyone else - although knowing how the process works is a must for a photography student.

Jonathan checks if the negatives are dry, which he finds they are. He switches on the light and holds them up against the bulb. „I don‘t think I‘ll ever _not_ be impressed by this format. Damn, these things are huge. Enough detail to blow them up to the size of a billboard. Let‘s try some prints, huh?“

„Go ahead. I can‘t really tell if they‘re okay just by the negatives.“ Will turns the light back off, and after a short moment of having his eyes adjust, Jonathan goes about the second step of the process. After all these years, it has lost nothing of its magic, even now that he understands the chemistry behind it.

Will stays in the corner on a stool that whole time, with a dreary expression that only changes when Jonathan shows him the best photo of the day. Beautiful bokeh, harsh sunlight, sharp shadows on Will‘s forlorn face. „I... I look like shit.“ he comments hoarsely upon seeing his own image in black and white, with those dark bags under his wet eyes. You can see the pencil squished in his cramping hand as he stares out at the rough sea.

„Aren‘t you feeling like shit too?“

„Yeah. I think I want to go home now. It‘s almost dinnertime.“

Jonathan nods, even if he can hardly take his eyes off the photo in his hand. „Yeah. I told mom we‘d be back for dinner. Do you think you‘re still okay to drive?“

„I‘m not gonna leave my car here.“ Will shrugs. „It‘s just ten minutes.“

„Alright. Before we get going... Do you think I could add this to my portfolio? I‘m lacking portraits, and this came out really great.“ Jonathan realizes too late that asking Will this _now_ might be tactless.

Will looks reserved, but he also shows a tiny smile. „Do with it what you want. Can I see it again?“

Jonathan gives his brother the large print, which he begins to intently study. „Oh man, I‘m really not looking my best right now, huh? Jonathan, I think... I think I...“ Will‘s voice begins to lose all its shape, until it‘s more of a weakly mumbles mess. „...think I have to leave my car after all.. come back t'morrow and get it...“

About thirty seconds later, he is asleep in Jonathan‘s passenger seat. His last fuel reserves are gone. He has just shut down for today.

Neither Jonathan nor Will know this yet, but in a few months time, a short but admiring article about overcoming childhood trauma will be featured in the Washington Square News - and the text will nicely wrap around a smaller print of that one good photo Jonathan took today. He and Nancy will receive quite a bit of praise from those who can relate to the article.

And then, a few years from now, Will is very casually going to mention to Jonathan and Nancy that he likes to recite a few lines from that article to himself when it‘s _that time of the year_ again.

**Author's Note:**

> I really am not done with this series. Even if literally no one is still following it, this has sort of turned into my happy place, even there is angst involved. And there will be more angst.


End file.
